


Mistletoe and Whine

by perclexed



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Community: lewis_challenge, Episode: s09e05-06 What Lies Tangled Parts 1-2, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Lewis Secret Santa 2015, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/pseuds/perclexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like the blind leading the blind.  For all that they’re the smartest detectives she’s ever worked with, they’re remarkably clueless about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe and Whine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loves_books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/gifts).



> Massive thanks as always to Owlbsurfinbird, Somniare, Tehomet, and Medie for their fine work to poke this story into shape. And for the ear, listening to my increasingly panicked "zomg whut" noises when nothing was gelling and the due date was rapidly approaching.
> 
> Written for loves_books for the Lewis Challenge comm's Secret Santa 2015 exchange. I hope this fit enough of her wish list to give her many happy holiday feels.

_What a strange month this has been_ , Lizzie thinks to herself as she shakes her head at the two men walking away from her. She’s in the covered market, it’s Christmas Eve, and she still can’t quite figure out her two bosses.

Individually, sure. Lewis is terrifying in a way that has nothing to do with his personality, which is normally quite sunny and pleasant. When it comes to their work, he may come off as affable and solid, which of course is nothing but the truth. But most people, especially the suspects in this town, hear the accent and have a preconceived notion about who he is and the kind of job he’ll do. And they’d be so very wrong.

Because he misses _nothing_. 

She’s seen him do it time and again - pull together seemingly inconsequential bits and pieces of nothing into a solid picture the rest of them can see. As someone who doesn’t speak with a Received Pronunciation accent herself, she finds it damn delightful.

It’s a bit different than working with Hathaway. He opens his mouth and starts talking and he sounds like he should fit right in, sitting at the table supping with all the other intellectual gods dwelling in the rarefied atmosphere of first-class academia. He can meet them on their chosen ground. Not just meet them, but best them on their chosen ground, much to many a professor’s chagrin. It’s the edge they need in many of their cases, the esoteric bits of knowledge that he absorbs like a sponge, one that soaks up words instead of water. A word or a phrase, sometimes in a long dead language even, has been the downfall of many an arrogant academic. Because more times than not, Hathaway either knows it or can pin down something unique enough about it that enough time and thorough research will provide an answer. And it’s one that’s often the crucial piece to solving the puzzle.

After she’d decided to stay as Hathaway’s Sergeant, when she had a few free moments, she’d look up one of their old cases and read through the notes, the files. She starts at the beginning, and after a while it’s not really a chore. Because it’s fascinating reading. They have an _amazing_ solve rate, and their cases have one of the highest rates of successful prosecution by the CPS in the entire country. In digging deeper into the details of a few, she boggles at how they took the fragments of evidence available and managed to uncover and arrest the right suspect. 

It also puts their dynamic into much better perspective, and explains _most_ of the currents under the surface.

The case files and her observations help explain most of the currents running between the two. Lizzie wasn’t able to stick a label on the rest of them until she saw the two of them together with Doctor Hobson.

And the way Hathaway retreated, the way he took a tiny step back, put some emotional distance between himself and the happy couple. Lizzie could see, as plain as the nose on her face, why he’d done so. “You poor bastard,” she’d whispered to herself. Observed through the filter labelled ‘unrequited love’, his actions made a whole lot more sense.

She’d looked a bit more kindly on her often prickly, reserved boss after that. It had taken a while, but they’d found their groove and fell into a really good working relationship. Tony teases her, sometimes, about how much her regard for Hathaway had increased. But watching and learning from two of the most talented detectives to ever hold an Inspector’s warrant card is exhilarating, and worth a little ribbing.

When she’s not being bashed over the head and left for dead, anyway.

Fast forward to over a year later, and they’ve all grown quite close. Laura and Robbie have her over for dinner a few times a month after Tony leaves for Canada, and she enjoys herself immensely. It’s a bit sweet, how Robbie’s making a point of looking out for her, and she appreciates it, even when he’s tutting at her. Granted, that’s usually when she finds herself falling into a cycle of working a bit too much and relieving the pressure by partying a bit too hard with her friend Bex to take the edge off the stress and the tension. Coming to work hungover isn’t great, but considering Hathaway does it too — well. 

If anyone can understand how depressing and lonely it is, coming home to an empty house, and dealing with the circumstances as best she can? Lizzie figures it’s these two men.

And then Lewis and Hobson left for New Zealand, and Hathaway had grown quieter and quieter.

Lizzie’s concerned. The weeks pass, and while she knows his father’s condition is weighing heavily on him, she also knows that it’s Lewis’ absence that’s really taking a toll on Hathaway’s mood. After that first month, she can always tell when he’s received an email from the other end of the world. That quirky half smile appears more frequently, and he’ll be just a touch more relaxed as they go about their business that day. 

But the smile will fade, he’ll grow brusque, but try as she might, she can’t quite keep him from growing cool and remote once more.

So she nearly thanks a God she’s not sure she believes in when she gets an email from Lewis, asking if she’s available to pick him up at Heathrow a month sooner than anticipated. His flight’s scheduled to arrive during the time he knows James usually spends with his father, and he doesn’t want to interrupt any of that time for a ride home from the airport. If she can’t collect him up, he says, he’ll make his own way back.

It’s no trouble to meet him, of course, and in the face of his obvious exhaustion, Lizzie refrains from asking him why he’s back. And where is Laura?

They’re nearly to Oxford when Robbie breaks off his tale of feeding red pandas at the Wellington Zoo with a sigh. “Lizzie, you’ve been very circumspect about not asking, but the truth is, I’m back early because Laura and I have decided we’re better off as friends.”

Lizzie so surprised she nearly drives into the back of a lorry. “Are you serious?” she says. But they were so solid, so… together before they left. What on earth?

“We’ll always love each other, but I think the trip highlighted something we’ve both known for a while. To put it simply, I’ve had more than enough adrenaline rushes for my lifetime, and she needs to lighten up after working with the dead for so many years. We want different things.” He frowns. “We’ll stay friends, of course. I don’t think anything could change that. But we agreed that as comfortable as we are together? We deserve better than ‘comfortable’."

Lizzie can't think of anything to say.

“I’m never going to hear the end of it from James, though,” Robbie confides. “Having to find a new flat, I mean. He likes to say I’ve been around half of Oxford at this point.”

“Just fake a back spasm so he has to carry the majority of the boxes,” Lizzie says with a small shrug. “Maybe that’ll teach him.”

Robbie’s delighted laughter brings a smile to her face, and makes the miles pass that much more swiftly on the drive back to Oxford.

She and Hathaway are more than ready to help Robbie move, but Robbie can't find a flat he likes well enough to commit to it. Laura’s due back in less than two weeks, so instead of rushing to find something, he ends up storing most of his stuff at Hathaway's flat. The younger man has plenty of room, and insists he’ll be offended if Robbie doesn’t stay with him until he finds the perfect flat. “You can break in the spare room. Let me know if the orthopaedic mattress is up to snuff.”

And while Lizzie watches Hathaway quite closely, aside from one small flicker of unease when Robbie had down the last box? They seem to be working out just fine as roommates. As a bonus, Hathaway’s leaving work earlier, apparently eating a bit better, and it appears that he’s even drinking less.

Of course it’s only been two days. But she hopes the trend continues. He’s a grumpy bugger when he’s hungover.

She’s wandering through the Christmas Market with Bex the final weekend before Christmas when who should they happen upon?

“Lizzie! Thank god. You’ve saved me from a lecture about the origin of the Christmas market and how they ended up in England. Knowing this one,” Lewis hooks a thumb at his companion, “there’ll be ties to the royal family, and we’ll get talking about the world wars before we’re through.”

“Yes,” Hathaway says dryly. “Just what the holiday season needs. In-depth discussion of fascism and potential ties to the nobility.”

“Mind, you look the part, all Teutonic perfection and whatnot.”

Hathaway just snorts in disbelief and continues tilting his head at the spiced nuts vendor, raising his eyebrows in a non-verbal question. Lizzie shakes her head before tilting hers at the macaron stall.

“Sweets trump nuts any day,” she says. 

Hathaway darts a not-so-subtle, amused glance between her and Bex, and she just rolls her eyes at him in response.

“Suit yourself,” he says with a small smirk, and the two men amble towards the nut vendor, still talking animatedly.

“How can you stand it, watching those two, day in and day out?” Bex asks her.

“It’s a bit painful, isn’t it?” Lizzie says thoughtfully, casting a glance back at her bosses. They’re standing in a queue, and closer together than some of the other couples in line, brushing against one another if they so much as twitch.

It is rather difficult. Hathaway’s extremely circumspect, but there’s no way to hide the deep connection he has with Lewis. It’s obvious to nearly everyone that knows them that they belong together, but for some reason, neither can seem to recognise the esteem in which the other holds them.

It’s like the blind leading the blind. For all that they’re the smartest detectives she’s ever worked with, they’re remarkably clueless about each other.

They’re lucky that they aren't assigned another case before it’s suddenly Christmas Eve, and Lizzie’s in the covered market picking up a few treats for herself. She’ll be alone, but it’s all right. They’ve been working very hard to wrap up the latest case before the holiday, and working together, she and Hathaway managed to clear their desks last night right at 5pm. They’re free until after the New Year, for once. Moody had refused to let them work for the next week. 

_“You’ve both put in too many hours this quarter. Have a little sympathy for my budget, will you, and take some of the frightening amounts of time off you’re both accruing at much too rapid a rate?”_

_They’d both blinked at him, and he sighed. “Neither of you are to show your face in here until after New Year’s. Am I clear?”_

_“Sir,” they’d said in unison. He’d given them a look. “Sorry, Joe,” she’d said and was rewarded with a smile from both of them._

So she’s had quite the luxurious lie in, and has dashed out with her backpack to pick up a few last minute things with which to treat herself. 

Robbie’s not back to work yet, so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that she bumps into the two of them, each holding a number of shopping bags. Lizzie eyes her boss briefly, wondering if he needs to use powder to get into denim that tight. Those jeans are nearly obscene, and she’s glad he’s wearing one of his stylish coats. She knows it’s sparing her a blush, the fabric neatly covering him from jawbone to mid-thigh.

“I thought you were headed up to Manchester this morning?”

Robbie heaves a sigh. “Got a call from Lyn right before I was about to leave. Turns out they’ve got norovirus or summat, and I’ve been banned from visiting until after the New Year. Poor Jack. The lad’s been looking forward to Santa’s visit. I told Lyn to go ahead and we could open my presents when I see them next.”

“Oh, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, since Robbie’s in town, I thought we should probably have something other than Chinese takeaway, so we’re picking up a few things for Christmas dinner.” Hathaway hesitates, but ploughs ahead anyway. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

He’s so awkward when he’s trying to reach out. Lizzie’s affectionate smile is real as she reaches out to squeeze his forearm. “I appreciate the invitation, I really do. But I’ve got a marathon Skype session with Tones planned, and if possible I’m not getting out of my jammies for any man tomorrow. Except for a bath using one of my Christmas presents to myself,” she says, holding up the bag from Oxford Aromatics. “Nope. A long chat with Tones, a long bath, and a whole bunch of treats for myself. That’ll be my Christmas sorted this year.” She’s not happy Tony’s gone, of course, but she is actually looking forward to spending the entire day doing as little as possible. If she can’t have her husband with her, it’s the next best thing.

“Well, if you change your mind, give me a ring.” And would you look at that, an actual full smile from James Hathaway. It’s lovely, and she can’t help but smile helplessly in return, because she’s so glad he’ll have a good friend with him for the holiday.

The two ramble off towards the other end of the market together, and she turns to head back to her car. A quick stop at the juice bar later, she’s about to start her car when her mobile rings. It’s Moody.

“Sir?”

“Lizzie, where are you?”

“Just outside the Covered Market. Why?”

He rattles off an address just a couple of streets away. “Hathaway’s been stabbed.”

“Sorry, did you say _stabbed_?” She won’t get far in traffic this time of day, so she scrambles out of the car, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Lewis called it in; Dispatch notified me.”

“Got it. On my way.” She ends the call and _runs_.

Predictably, there’s a knot of people standing around staring, and she shoves her way through them with few apologies.

“Lizzie,” Robbie says with relief. “EMS is on the way. I was outside, he came in to get some ciggies and apparently interrupted a robbery attempt. There’s a nasty slice across his stomach, but I don’t think it’s really deep. I’m more worried about the head injury and possible concussion.” He looks down at James, who’s unconscious but doing a very good job of losing fair amounts of blood. The cloth Robbie’s holding over the stomach wound is darkening rapidly.

“Glad I grabbed my pack,” she mutters as she digs for a compression bandage. Robbie gives her a look. “They came in handy at my last station. Bluewater, in Kent,” is all she says before she dons a pair of gloves and rips open both sets of packaging. 

“I’m just glad you have them,” Lewis murmurs as he checks on Hathaway’s head wound, still bleeding sluggishly.

She turns and surveys the bystanders. “I need another pair of hands.”

A young man in front kneels next to her. “What can I do?”

“Go stand by his head. When I say, _gently_ raise him up by his shoulders just enough for me to get this under him. You’ll need to hold him up for at least ten seconds. I’m fast, but we’ve got to go all the way around him at couple of times, and he may look skinny but he’s solid. He’ll be heavy and awkward to hold on to, being unconscious. Can you do that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” her new assistant murmurs.

“Great. Put on some gloves before you touch him. What’s your name, by the way?”

“David,” the lad says distractedly, peering down at Hathaway and testing a few grips.

“Well, David, thanks for helping us. The paramedics should be here soon, but better safe than sorry.” Lizzie’s got the bandage ready and she checks with Lewis, who’s pale but maintaining steady pressure on the wound. “On three?” Both men nod. “One, two, _three_.”

It doesn’t take long for her to get the bandage in place. She’s securing the end of it by the time uniform’s arrived to begin clearing the scene. “David, did you see what happened?”

“Yes ma’am, I did,” he replies.

“Would you mind going with this nice officer and giving a statement?” Lizzie nods towards one of the DCs, who’s looking like a thundercloud at the idea that someone’s hurt their boss, but has a kind word for the student who’s been so helpful. She escorts him over to a quiet spot and starts gathering his information.

They can hear sirens in the distance, growing louder as they get closer, and she looks at Robbie. “At last,” he murmurs. He’s wiped his hands as best he can, and has taken one of James’ in his own trembling ones. 

Lizzie strips off her gloves, setting them aside as some obliging individual waves the paramedics in. She gently touches Robbie’s shoulder to get his attention. “Let’s give them some room to work.”

He nods, and reluctantly releases James’ hand. They don’t go far, just back a few steps so Robbie can keep an eye on what they’re doing to his friend as he gives Lizzie more information. “Young white male, early 20s. About six feet, lean, dark hair. Last seen wearing workboots, baggy jeans, and a grey hoodie with, oh, some shoe brand on it.”

“Adidas? Nike? Puma?”

“That’s it. Puma. In white across the chest.”

“I’ll get that description circulated,” Lizzie says, fishing her tablet out of her backpack. She’s not sure what impulse made her bring it with her on what was supposed to be a short shopping trip, but she’s glad she did. “You stay here until they’re ready to transport him. If there’s no room in the ambulance, we’ll get a uniform to follow.” She’d offer her car but he’s looking a bit too shaky to drive. Better to spare him the trial of having to get himself to A&E when it’d be just as easy to have one of them take him there.

If Lewis is heading to the hospital, as well he should, then she doesn't really trust anyone else to secure the scene and make sure they get all the vital information out of the witnesses, as quickly as possible. Whoever did this is definitely not going to get away with it. The sooner she can get everything wrapped up here, the sooner they can get people looking at CCTV, looking for the identity of this young man, and making sure he's detained so he can be punished for what he's done to _her_ Inspector.

Someone else might miss something. They're not invested the way she and Lewis are.

Besides, though he’s not chummiest Inspector working in the station, Hathaway’s more than repaired the damage he’d done during those first few weeks he’d returned, newly minted and trying to hit his stride in his new position. Every single officer on the scene is looking mighty angry, and they’re working at a feverish pitch to get more information on the assailant. She over hears a pair of uniform talking to one another. “Look, sometimes he can be a posh wanker, but he’s _our_ posh wanker.”

Lizzie smiles, because really, what else is there to say? The sound of stretcher wheels on cobblestones has her turning around to see them loading her boss into the back of an ambulance. Robbie watches it drive away, then comes over to stand with her, looking a bit lost. Lizzie makes deliberate eye contact with one of the newest members of the force, a young DC who’s not doing much of anything at the moment. “Jenkins, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Mind taking Inspector Lewis over to A&E, so I can keep coordinating the scene here? He’s volunteered to keep track of Hathaway for us.” Lizzie widens her eyes innocently when Lewis narrows his at her, but goes along tamely enough. They both know it’s where he’d want to be anyway, and she’s actually a bit surprised that he trusts her enough to stay where she is.

*****

An hour or so later, she’s back at her desk, but before she can set her backpack down, Moody’s at her elbow. “Nope. You’re too close, and you’re supposed to be off. I’ve already turned everything over to Dawson.”

“But -” Lizzie doesn’t get more than that one word out.

“No. You’re going to take these keys, and this basket, and get it to Lewis,” he says, implacably, and gently nudges her through the doorway to her office. Lizzie notices, somewhat belatedly, the large picnic basket he’s carrying in his hand. “I heard through the grapevine that they were out shopping for Christmas dinner.” 

Well, someone probably gathered up the bags they’d had with them and brought them back to the nick. As evidence, if nothing else. “Yeah. I was actually there myself, getting a few things for my days off. I’d just spoken to them not ten minutes before.” It’s beginning to catch up to her a bit.

“One of the admins heard about that and rounded up a few volunteers. It’s not much, but it’s not pot noodles either.” 

They’re at the door to the car park now, and she reaches out with hands that are shaking a bit. “Thanks, Joe, and thank everyone who contributed to this. Really.” 

“Hathaway can thank us all by getting better as soon as possible,” Joe replies. He waves to yet another uniform. “They brought Hathaway’s Jag back. You’ve got the keys. Anything else?”

“My car’s here. Can I get a uniform to bring back for it?”

“Absolutely. Sally?” He raises his voice and gets the attention of one of the officers at the desk. “Mind following Maddox to hospital so she can drop off a vehicle, then come back here?”

“Of course, sir. Joe.” The officer smiles, a touch embarrassed. “I’m happy to. Are you ready now, ma’am?”

Lizzie smiles a bit sheepishly at their unconventional CS, who squeezes her elbow in response and heads back into the station with a wave. Turning to her shadow, she nods briskly. “I am. I’ll hopefully be in and out in a tick, but it could be a bit longer. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Sally replies. 

It takes a while to get Hathaway’s room number out of the reception desk, but she pokes her head and smiles when she sees he’s awake.

“Lizzie!” Hathaway says expansively, while Robbie clutches at his arm to stay put. Curiously, they're sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed, and Lewis has one arm threaded through Hathaway's and they're holding hands.

Lewis reads her raised eyebrow correctly. "Whatever they gave him has made him loopy, and the knock on his head is making him dizzy. This was the only way he'd stay quiet, and after he nearly fell out of bed earlier, we figured this would be a good way to keep him still."

“I don’t know why they keep fussing. I feel fine. I feel _great_ , actually,” Hathaway says, blinking a bit owlishly at her. 

“Apparently,” she says dryly. 

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” he says, mock pouting. “I thought you’d be nicer. I’m injured, you know.” He drops the barest wink at her, and she shakes her head. He’s obviously picked up on Lewis’ concern and is being a bit sillier than usual to help calm his friend down.

Luckily, the doctor comes through the door just then. “You’re all set to go, Inspector,” she says, handing over a small bag of prescription bottles. “We went over care instructions for the injury site, you’ve got someone to stay with you to help for the next few days to make sure there are no complications from the head injury. Don’t be a martyr - take the pain meds as needed. That’s what they’re for. Other than that, I think you should be good to go now. Take care, and happy Christmas.” The doctor nods and bustles out even as they’re returning the holiday wishes.

“Right. Let’s get you sorted,” Lewis says, easing away from his friend. “Lizzie, grab his coat?”

“It’s probably only fit for the rubbish bin now,” Hathaway says, a bit gloomily. 

Lizzie stifles a smile, because her boss is rather attached to this coat. He looks very dramatic, striding onto the crime scene with the collar turned up. Lizzie pulls on a pair of gloves and picks it up to take a look. "Actually, sir, I think this should be fairly easy to clean and mend. If you want, I can ask the SOCOs if they would recommend a cleaner? I know a seamstress in town; they could probably fix this up quite easily once the blood's been taken out."

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Hathaway says and nods at her. “I just need the things from my pockets. Wallet, phone, all that.” Lizzie nods, hands Hathaway his phone, and after pulling a small reusable bag from her backpack, retrieves everything else from the coat.

In the last pocket there's a sprig of mistletoe, which she removes with eyebrow raised.

Hathaway flushes quite deeply, which is interesting considering the blood loss this evening. Lewis, having risen to come and get the bag from Lizzie, takes one look at the mistletoe, then at James and does a classic double-take.

“You never told me you were seeing anyone!”

Lizzie doesn’t know if Hathaway’s eyes close in disbelief, but she knows hers do. 

They pop right back open a moment later when Robbie’s incredulous voice says, “Get away, man. _Me?!_ ”

“Why not you?!” Hathaway retorts, hotly. “Whatever arguments you’re coming up with, I’ve thought about it and you’re wrong. Believe me, I’ve had _plenty_ of time to ‘get over it’, and if it hasn’t happened in all these years, it’s not going to.”

“Years?!”

Hathaway tilts his chin up to the ceiling with a melodramatic sigh. “Lord, give me strength.”

“Oh give over,” Robbie mutters. James drops his chin and the two of them look at one another. “Years?”

“Years,” Hathaway affirms, quietly.

The two men are having such a loaded, complicated conversation with nothing but their eyes and their facial expressions that Lizzie feels like a voyeur, and turns her gaze away from them to studiously examine the corner of the ceiling. There’s a rustling sound, and her eyes flick back to take in the fact that Lewis has moved to sit on the bed next to Hathaway’s hip, and they’re still staring at one another.

“You’re drugged out of your mind. It wouldn’t be right.” Lewis’ voice is low, with a hint of a growl to it.

“Oh, god,” James groans, eyes wide and pleading. “Don’t do that. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? Please don’t make me beg. I need something to remember, something for my brain to hold onto, so when whatever lovely drug they’ve given me to numb the pain wears off, I can’t convince myself that there’s no way you couldn’t want this. That this isn’t all just a particularly pleasant hallucination, though I must say in all my daydreams of this moment, they didn’t include a hospital or my sergeant standing and watching.”

He turns wide eyes to Lizzie. “Will you stay? Witness that there’s nothing untoward happening? It’s just a kiss.”

Lizzie blinks for a moment, shocked. This is possibly one of the most complicated, private men she’s ever met, and he wants her to stay to witness his first kiss with the man he’s been pining for since the day he first met Lewis?

But she can read the truth in his eyes. They’re wide open and sincere, entreating her to help him navigate a truly milestone moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He turns back to Robbie. “See? She wouldn’t let us do anything wrong.”

Robbie’s voice is soft as he reads the eagerness, the near desperation in James’ face and he says, “All right, lad. All right.” They regard each other seriously for a moment, before Robbie leans in and gently presses his lips to James’.

It’s light, and sweet, and she smiles. _It’s about damn time_ , she thinks.

However, she _isn’t_ prepared for the carnal turn the kiss takes. Though to be fair, perhaps neither of the participants expected it either. 

But James makes a small sound, and Robbie growls in response, and it takes off from there. It happens so quickly she can’t look away, as Robbie gently pins James to the bed with one hand on his shoulder, the other grasping at the nape of his neck, and practically devours his mouth. James gives as good as he gets though, one arm going around Robbie’s back to pull him closer, the other fisting in his shirt like Robbie’s trying to get away. Though nothing could be further from the truth.

And she’s not entirely sure she’ll ever forget the sound of her bosses moaning each other’s names, but it’s the best train wreck at which she’s ever had the pleasure of rubbernecking.

After a moment, that's quite enough. She coughs loudly, and Robbie springs back in surprise. They both turn to look at her, and Robbie promptly sits back down in the visitor’s chair and crosses his legs. James' hands clench in the blanket over his lower half in an effort to avoid reaching out for Robbie.

All three of them are bright red, but she can’t control the grin that steals across her face, nor suppress the amusement in her voice when she says, “Right. Think I’d probably better stay as a chaperone, at least until we get you two home. Sir, would you like some help with your shoes?”

“I’ll do it, lass.” Robbie nods stiffly.

“OK, well, I’ll just be… over here. By the door.” Lizzie takes the two steps to move closer to the door and promptly turns her gaze to the wall, doing her best to ignore the two men. 

But she can still see out of the corner of her eye as Robbie stands and reaches out a hand to James, and how James shudders, hard, when their hands touch. After a breathless moment, Robbie clears his throat and says in an unsteady voice, “Sit up and let’s get your feet on the floor so I can get your shoes on, yeah?”

James nods and shifts, grimacing a bit as the movement pulls at his wound. “Well, that’s going to be a bit of a nuisance, I can see.”

“Aye, but you’ll take your medications and do everything the doctor tells you to, and you’ll be healed up in no time,” Lewis says as he collects James’ shoes.

They’ve only shared one kiss and right now Lizzie is missing Tony more than ever. She shifts on her feet a bit and bites her lip at the _zing!_ of sensation at the juncture of her thighs. Objectively she knows they’re both quite handsome men, and well… She is only human after all.

A small choked sound from the bed has her turning her head instinctively, and choking down a moan of her own as she sees what provoked the sound. Robbie’s kneeling at James’ feet, but there’s nothing submissive about his position whatsoever. One shoe is already on, but Robbie hasn’t tied the other just yet. He’s holding James’ heel in one hand, and his ankle in the other, but his eyes are on the very visible proof of what his touch is doing to his friend. Visible enough that Lizzie can see it from where she’s standing.

“Jesus, James,” she hears him whisper.

Hathaway whispers back, “I can’t help it. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, and we’re so close but… _fuck_ that guy. How long did the doctor say before this wore off?”

“Too long for my liking, and I’m not letting you risk hurting yourself further,” Robbie grits out, but he gives James’ ankle one last squeeze, provoking another one of those stifled moans, and does up the laces with shaking hands.

“Lizzie, would you get us a wheelchair, please?” Robbie says, rising to his feet.

“If you think I’m leaving the two of you alone like this you must be mad. Sir,” she says, nodding a Lewis, “you go get the chair. I will stay here.” Lizzie shakes her head at the two. “Christ, it’s like you two have never investigated a blackmailing case before.”

They turn to stare at her, wide eyed. “You’re joking,” Hathaway says, but it’s with an involuntary lilt to it that tells her he’s not sure.

She lets them stew for a moment more but then rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m joking. But that’ll teach you to send me a taxidermied cat, yeah?”

Hathaway’s eyes go round with delight, and Lewis chortles loudly. “I told you not to do it, man! This one could give Innocent a run for her money.”

“Do you really think Jean Innocent would be standing here right now?”

The two men snort simultaneously, but then inhale sharply as they turn and look at each other, eyes gone wide again. Robbie’s eyebrows go up, and James purses his lips a bit, thoughtfully. Robbie’s eyes flicker down to James’ mouth, and James’ eyes go dark and intent in response. 

_Lord, no more eyefucking_. “Sir. Wheelchair if you please?” _Now. Plot kinky roleplay another time, when I am not in the room. Though a tip for you: You should ask the woman herself if you do decide to do that one_. Some mischievous impulse leads her to say, “You know, Bex could fix you up a room….”

“Can she now?” James murmurs, interrupting Lizzie, and a slow smile graces his face as Robbie flushes even darker, then swiftly stands and exits the room without another word.

Hathaway stares at the closing door thoughtfully, then turns and surveys her face. “Your face is flushed. I know people find me enigmatic, but there’s surprising depth to you, Maddox.”

“You two are being painfully honest. It would feel cheap to do anything but return the favour. Happy endings are hot,” she says, matter of fact, and then smirks when he blushes. She waits until Robbie gets back before saying, “Besides, if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s you two.”

And now they both smile at her like schoolboys. Charmed despite herself, she rolls her eyes and offers a forearm to Hathaway. “Up. Let’s get out of here so I can go home and miss Tones by myself. Robbie, could you loan him your jacket? Just until we get him home?”

“Aye, lass. Good idea,” he says, stripping out of his coat and holding it up, gently helping James into it. She bites her lip when he turns around, because, well, it’s not exactly his usual style. Robbie doesn’t bother, and his booming laugh brings a smile to all everyone who hears it. “It’s a look.”

They get Hathaway in the chair, check in at the desk and get an orderly to escort them down to the car with little fuss. Lizzie neatly swipes the keys from Robbie’s hand after he opens the passenger door. “I’ll drive. Your chaperone thinks it'd be best if you sit in the back." She grins over the top of the car at Robbie.

"You're not wrong there," Lewis murmurs softly, but it's loud enough to have Hathaway biting the inside of his lips in amusement, eyes aglow with humour, affection, and more than a little heat. 

She stands there, watching them stare at one another, before clearing her throat again loudly. "Ahem. Shall we go?" They both shoot her surprisingly naughty grins but do as they’re told, the orderly helping James into the front seat while Robbie watches, intent and obviously working out the best way to help James back out of the car at home. He shakes hands with the young man, who smiles and takes the wheelchair with him as he heads back into the hospital. A moment to make sure they’re buckled in, and they’re off.

They’re all quiet during the drive. Hathaway’s looking intently out the window with slightly unfocused eyes every time her own flick to the side to check on him, but there’s a tiny curl at the corner of his lips that broadcasts his delight and wonder at the situation. At least to those who know him well enough to read him. Lewis, when her eyes check the rear view mirror briefly at a stop sign, has his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think him asleep, but she does know him and knows he’s giving serious thought on how he’ll handle the next few days.

She parks as close as she can to James’ building, and before she can even open her door Robbie’s out and opening James’ for him. She huffs a laugh as Robbie carefully extracts James from the front seat, and takes a moment to retrieve the small bag with James’ things and the basket of food before making sure the car is locked. She catches up to the two making their way towards the door marked with a ‘6’, gently draping James’ other arm over her shoulder so he’s well supported. He looks down at Robbie, then at her, obviously amused. She thinks it’s a win when he doesn’t protest the help.

They get him inside and while he says he’ll be just fine on the couch, she pauses long enough to set the basket down and together she and Robbie manoeuver James to his bedroom anyway and help him ease down onto the mattress. She takes a step back, sees that the men have things under control, and goes back out to the living room to get the basket. She puts all the things that need to stay cool away, and leaves the rest in the basket. Fishing in a kitchen drawer for a notepad, she draws the prescription bottles out of the small bag and makes a note of the dosage and timing, including when he’s due for his next few doses. 

She has to wash a glass, from among the ones in the sink, but once clean, she fills it with cool water and takes it and the pills with her to the bedroom. Robbie’s helped James out of his clothes and, surprisingly, into a pair of pyjamas. He’s easing James into bed gently, both of them both flushed and a bit breathless.

She just smiles, and asks how James is feeling. “I think it’s all beginning to catch up to me a bit,” he says with his usual flair for understatement, as it looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’ll just close my eyes for a moment. Just a mo…ment…,” he says, trailing off as he falls asleep before his head even hits the pillow.

“He’ll need to take one of each of these,” she indicates the bottles on the bedside table, “In about four hours. He’ll definitely need the pain pill by then, I think. The rest of the care instructions are on the counter in the kitchen.”

Lizzie hands the slightly worse for the wear sprig of mistletoe to Lewis quite solemnly. "Remember he's supposed to take it easy for the next couple of days. If he pops any stitches you’ll answer to me. There's a Christmas dinner in the basket. Joe took the liberty of arranging that for you,” she says with a meaningful glance. Robbie purses his lips thoughtfully, but then nods. Good. They need to lighten up on Moody. He only has the best intentions.

“And don’t forget to give Nell a ring. I know it’s awkward, but I really do think she would want to know. Don’t be surprised if she stops by tomorrow. There’s probably enough in the basket to stretch Christmas dinner to three, if you’re so inclined.” She pauses, looks around and then back at Robbie. “I better not see you until you’re due back, but if there’re any issues with how that one’s healing, call me.” She looks into Robbie’s eyes and nods once, satisfied by what she sees there.

“Robbie. Be kind to him. He’s wanted this for a very long time.”

“Aye, lass. I’ve got a lot of making up to do. If I screw this up, I give you and Laura permission to do whatever you need to, to get our heads on straight.” Robbie says it with all the solemnity of a vow.

She smiles, nods, and surprising herself, leans over to kiss his cheek. “Happy Christmas, and give one to Himself for me, yeah?”

Robbie beams at her, and surprises her further by pulling her in for a heartfelt hug. “Thank you Lizzie. And happy Christmas,” he adds, brushing a kiss across her cheek in return.

It’s with no small amount of relief that she heads closes the door behind her and heads back down the path to where the uniform is waiting with the car running. Folding herself into the passenger seat, she heaves a sigh and buckles her belt.

“Inspector Hathaway all right?” the young woman asks.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. The stab wound didn’t puncture the bowel, and he’s got a few stitches and he’ll ache for a bit, but he’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.” Well, hopefully he’ll be a better version of himself in a few weeks, if what she thinks is going to happen in the next few days happens.

Assuming they don’t muck it up. She’ll have to call late tomorrow and wish them a happy Christmas and see how they’re doing. If it’s not each other.

Thankfully, it’s a fairly short ride back to the station, with little traffic on the road now. With Moody having turned everything over to one of the teams on duty over the holiday, there’s not even any paperwork for her to finish, and it’s with a sigh of relief that she folds herself into her own car, and heads through the cold night to her flat.

It’s a Christmas miracle that there’s a spot open not too far from her door, and as she turns off the car, she leans forward to rest her head against the steering wheel as a wave of fatigue swamps her. She’s been so busy taking care of everyone else today that she’s rather forgotten to take care of herself. But she’s nearly there, nearly home, and she manages to grab her bag and drag herself out of the car. She’s a little disturbed that her hand is shaking enough that it’s difficult to get the key in the lock, but she manages to get herself inside and the door closed and locked before she simply drops the keys, her bag, and her coat where she stands.

Only to shriek in surprise when a light by the couch flicks on and a head pops up over the back of the furniture. “Liz?”

Hand to her chest to try to contain the wild beating, she blinks and shakes her head. But no, he’s really here. “Tony?”

“Honey, why on earth are you home so late?” He’s really here. She thought he wasn’t going to be able to get back for Christmas, but no, he’s throwing off the quilt draped over his knees and rising to greet her. 

“Tony?” It’s just a bit much, after the day.

“Is that blood?” Her husband is frowning and reaching for her, gently touching the dark spots on her shirt and frowning at the ones on her trousers.

“Tony?”

“Lizzie. Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“Hathaway. He was stabbed. He’ll be fine now. Lewis is with him.” She recites this all in a wondering tone as she reaches out and lays her hands on her husband for the first time in months. And while her eyes can see that he’s here with her, it’s not until she can feel his warmth, the sensation of him breathing, that her heart and her brain catch up with what her eyes are telling her. “You’re really here.”

Tony pulls her into a tight embrace. “Yeah, hon. I’m really here.”

Lizzie isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed when she bursts into tears. Tony doesn’t try to talk, just holds her closer and croons into her hair, letting her cry herself out. It doesn’t take long. She’s really too tired to get worked up to true hysterics, and that’s not really her style anyway.

“Oh my god, I needed to see you today.” She reaches up and cradles that beloved face in her hands. “You have no idea how badly I needed to see you today.”

“Do you want to have a shower? You can tell me about it later. Right now, let’s get you clean. Did you eat?”

He’s really here. “All I need is you. C’mon.” She holds out a hand and he takes it with a smile. Leading him towards the bathroom, he tugs her gently to a halt. “What?”

Tony just continues smiles at her, a look so loving it stops her in her tracks as she just stands in wonder at this man. Her husband. 

Her husband, who is pointing up with a finger?

Lizzie tilts her head back and has to blink a few times to recognize what he’s put there, but once she identifies the blob of greenery that very definitely was not there when she left this morning as mistletoe, she can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“What?” Tony says, puzzled.

She moves closer and reaches up to pull him down for a kiss. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Happy Christmas, darling,” he whispers just before their lips meet.

“Happy Christmas, love. Now shut up and snog me.”


End file.
